


Let's Forget This Ever Happened

by squidbobby



Category: SpongeBob SquarePants (Cartoon), The SpongeBob Musical - Various/Anthony & Coulton/Jarrow
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, M/M, Moonshine, Pining Spongebob, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 14:06:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13503123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidbobby/pseuds/squidbobby
Summary: Spongebob indulges in some of Sandy’s home-brewed moonshine, and Squidward is the unfortunate soul who has to take him home. Only, the little guy is acting kind of strange. Implied pining!Spongebob.





	Let's Forget This Ever Happened

**Author's Note:**

> First Spongebob fic up and running!
> 
> I have a tumblr (@squidbobby) on which I take requests, and I'm open to most pairings.

He definitely shouldn’t have tried the moonshine. Sandy had brewed it herself, said it tasted like strawberries. All it’s done so far is make him dizzy and need to use the bathroom. And now here he is, counting moles on his hands to stay focused. There’s a knock at the door. It sounds dampened, as if he’s wearing earmuffs. He’s pretty sure the door is locked. He hopes it is. A voice comes through, concerned.

“You doin’ okay in there?”

He’s gotta say something, doesn’t want Sandy to kick the door down—which she’s entirely capable of—and find him with his pants around his ankles (literally).

“M’fine, I’m fine, don’t come in. M’fine…Don’t…” His consonants are starting to soften. Not a good sign.

Sandy laughs a little behind the door, and things go quiet again. He uses the counter to heave himself off the toilet and pulls his shorts up, not bothering with the suspenders. Why are his legs so sore? He looks in the mirror. Tries to, anyway. The lights make his head hurt. He covers one eye with his hand, and the image clears up a little bit. He looks a mess: blond hair sticking up in every direction, cheeks and nose rosy against his freckled skin, even his collar is out of place. He smooths it down and runs clumsy fingers through his hair, only serving to make it more frizzy.

The lock clicks open as he turns the knob, and the hallway is blissfully dark. One hand goes to the wall, and he creeps towards Sandy’s bedroom one step at a time. When he makes it, Sandy looks up at him from where she sits on the floor.

“Hey there, little buddy! I think maybe you oughta go easy on the ‘shine before you get any worse…”

Spongebob ambles over to her bedside table and carefully picks up the glass jar, pinching his nose closed and downing the rest of the clear liquid. It’s awful. He drops to the bed and coughs as his throat burns. Sandy had told him he would get used to it, but that obviously wasn’t the case.

“Dangit Spongebob, what’d I just say?” She stands up and snatches the empty jar with a sigh. At this rate, Sandy can tell her friend is going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning. She looks over to see him rubbing his face into her blanket.

“Soft…” he hiccups and giggles at the sound.  _Oh boy._

“Listen Spongebob,” she says. “I think it’d be best if you went home and got some sleep.”

“Aw, but I’m having fun right here,” he says, voice muffled by the blanket.

“Don’t you have work tomorrow or somethin’?”

At that, he shoots up off the bed.

“Barnacles! Sandy, can you give me a ride home?”

She reminds him they’ve  _both_  been sampling her creation and therefore she shouldn’t drive, and he frowns. He takes out his shell phone and, using his new trick of covering one eye, scrolls through his contacts until he gets to the S section. The call takes twelve rings to go through. He counts.

“What…do you…want?” he hears from the other end. There’s music on in the background, and Squidward is out of breath.

“Hiya Squidward!” he says into the receiver. “I was wondering if you could possibly come pick me up from the tree dome.”

He sputters. “What? Why?”

“Sandy can’t drive me and I can’t walk home and I need to sleep for work tomorrow because I need to be well-rested to do a good job, and you’re my only friend with a boat, and—“

“Fine, fine.” Squidward grumbles. “I’ll be over in a minute. Don’t make me wait on you.” The line goes dead, and Spongebob pockets his shell phone. He turns to Sandy and gives her a cheery thumbs-up.

“Squidward’s on his way!”

Sandy links their arms together and leads Spongebob towards the exit. The process is slow-going, and the headlights of Squidward’s boat are already approaching as they step out into the chilly night air. Spongebob tries the passenger door and finds it unlocked, waving goodbye to Sandy before opening it and plopping down onto the seat inside. The leather squeaks under him.

“Thanks for helping me, Squiddy,” he says. He lays back in the seat and throws an arm across his eyes. Suddenly, Spongebob is very sleepy.

“Whatever,” Squidward replies. “You really are a pain, you know. I was in the middle of practicing my dance routine when you called.”

“Dance…?” he asks vaguely, not removing his arm.

“Yes. I’m working on my improv style. It’s a fresh take on tap dancing, and all the music comes from my clarinet. And my feet, of course…”

Spongebob shifts in his seat to face the driver’s side. Squidward is covered in sweat, teal locks falling out of his headband to frame his face. He must be practicing a lot. Spongebob wonders if Squidward would ever want to dance with him. He’s never seen Squidward dance before, but he imagines it would be lovely.

“…might even perform at the Bikini Bottom Bowl one day!” Squidward finishes. He has that look in his eyes that means he’s far off, somewhere in the future where he’s struck it big.

“Tha’ sounds nice,” Spongebob all but whispers. Any louder, he thinks, and he may vibrate out of his skin.

Finally parked, Squidward turns and casts as much of a suspicious glare at his neighbor as he can manage in the dark.

“Why are you being so quiet right now?” he asks.

“Isn’t that what you’re always telling me to be? Quiet?”

“It’s creeping me out.”

“Sorry.”

Spongebob pushes the door open, slides off the seat, and falls face first into the sand below. It doesn’t hurt, but now he’s coughing his lungs clear of the debris. At least his arms are working right. He can crawl to his front door. He gets a few paces before a large pair of hands pulls him onto his feet. He sways a little and leans into a sturdy body.

“You’re not getting sick, are you?” Squidward asks, though he sounds more accusing than concerned. God forbid he gets ill because he did something nice for  _Spongebob_.

“No no, m’okay.” he manages. And he really  _is_  okay, until the moment they arrive at his front door and he pulls out his key. He misses the lock three times before he notices the key is upside down, anyway. Squidward yanks it out of his hand and lets them both inside. He’s deposited on a chair before Squidward is suddenly in his personal space, examining him like a specimen under a microscope.

“You’re…drunk?” He guesses, doubtfully.

Spongebob nods minutely. He’s just getting ready to explain himself when he feels a telltale cramp in his stomach that makes him dash towards his bathroom. When Squidward catches up, Spongebob’s cheek is pressed against the toilet seat, and there are tears in his eyes. Squidward looks around for a washcloth and wets it. He carefully maneuvers Spongebob onto the floor, his back against the wall. The blond’s eyes are squeezed shut.

“The lights?” Squidward asks. Spongebob nods. He turns them off. In the small space, it’s a simple task to return to Spongebob’s side. He places a steadying hand on his neighbor’s chin before gently wiping his face. He tosses the washcloth in the direction of the bathtub and once again helps Spongebob onto his feet. It’s as if he weighs nothing.

They’re halfway to the bedroom when Squidward feels a hand gripping the material of his shirt. Well, that’s going to wrinkle, he has time to think before he’s being dragged down to Spongebob’s level. His lips are dry where they press against Squidward’s. The hand that’s not currently fisted in his shirt is now pressing firmly against his cheek. Spongebob’s fingers are cold and a little damp, probably from being on the bathroom floor.  _Oh, Neptune._  Squidward pulls away and wipes his mouth, barely remembering not to drop his cargo.

“Ew, Spongebob, you just threw up!” is the first thought out of his mouth.  _Why would you want to do that?_  Spongebob groans and smashes his face into the crook of Squidward’s neck as they push forward.  _Just a few more steps and I can get out of here and forget this ever happened._  Squidward deposits Spongebob on his bed and heads downstairs, grumbling to himself all the way.

* * *

 

The next morning, Spongebob wakes up to his alarm with a weird taste in his mouth. His head is pounding, but he manages to read the clock on his nightstand. It’s 7:00, he’s got time to sleep just a little longer. There’s something else on his nightstand, too.  _Is that-?_  It’s a full bottle of water, and next to it are two little red pills.  _Huh._  He takes them, and the water is amazing on his dry tongue. He lays back in bed and returns to sleep. There’s music coming from somewhere, smooth and low.

The next time he wakes up, it’s 7:55 and Spongebob’s head feels a lot better. He gets out of bed and starts getting ready for work. When he looks in the mirror, there are definite bags under his eyes.

It takes him a little longer to get to the Krusty Krab, as his feet are sluggish. He heads through the front entrance. The only people inside are Squidward, lounging on the edge of his post, and Mr. Krabs, setting up the register. Spongebob greets the two of them between yawns and heads to the kitchen to start up the grill. Soon, the whole place fills with the smell of krabby patties, and he begins to perk up despite himself. He peeks through the window, where Squidward hunches over in boredom, or exhaustion, or whatever.

“Hey Squidward, I heard music this morning! Was that you?” He waves at his coworker, who looks back with surprise.

“Huh?” Squidward’s face is red.  _He must be extra annoyed today!_  “I was practicing my routine. The tap?”

“Ooh, that sounds fun! Can I see?

“Wh-..I…No, you cannot!” He spins back around to face an approaching customer, and the conversation is cut short.

_Gee_ , Spongebob thinks.  _He must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning._

Mr. Krabs chuckles on the way to his office.  _Hungover Spongebob? That’s a first._

“Rough night, boyo?”

He can feel his face heat, but there’s no point in trying to deny it.

“Yessir, Mr. Krabs. I’m…not even really sure how I got home last night.”

“Well, just make sure it doesn’t interfere with your work.”

“Will do, sir.”

Mr. Krabs nods, satisfied, and heads the rest of the way to his office. Spongebob turns back to Squidward, who suddenly seems very interested in the register. He sighs.

_This is gonna be a very long shift._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
